


Midnight Relief

by LeraOmo (Lera_Myers)



Series: Thedas Wettings [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Desperation Play, F/F, Omorashi, Sleepy Cuddles, Vaginal Fingering, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 17:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lera_Myers/pseuds/LeraOmo
Summary: As the Winter Ball draws to a close, Lavellan and Josephine take advantage of an opportunity for some fun in their guest room.





	Midnight Relief

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains omorashi and light smut. Please read the tags.

If Josephine had her way, she’d be dancing on this balcony with the Inquisitor until the sun came up. As wonderful as the idea is, her body keeps reminding her it has _needs_. Heavy eyelids and sore feet can only be ignored so long; likewise, with every sudden movement, she resists the urge to grimace at the insistent pressure in her bladder.

Not that there have been many such movements for a while. Lavellan’s head came to rest on her girlfriend’s shoulder several songs ago, their dancing turning to a slow rock that grows impossibly more sluggish by the minute. Reluctantly, Josephine dips her neck to murmur into one pointed ear.

“Shall we retire for the night?”

Lavellan nods sleepily. “A room to ourselves sounds wonderful.” She lifts her head, and Josephine follows her wandering gaze towards the outdoor privy. Evidently, she is not the only one in this predicament.

“Going upstairs will be faster,” she points out. It isn’t a stretch of the truth - the queue is at least two dozen people.

Stifling a yawn, Lavellan nods again. “Rather not wait in that line a _fourth_ time if I don’t have to.”

Despite how worn out she is, being reminded of her girlfriend’s small bladder still manages to send a little spark into Josephine’s lower stomach. As they make their way towards the stairs, she leans in close and whispers, “I’ve been holding it all night."

Lavellan’s expression shifts from exhausted to intrigued, though cautious. “You want to - at this hour?”

With a laugh, Josephine shrugs. “There was no opportunity to slip away. It has nothing to do with _that.”_ She glances away, then back. “Unless you would prefer it to.”

In truth, she could probably have found a chance to duck out of the ballroom had the situation been dire. But Josephine is used to parties, and hiding certain urges - and unlike her lover, has no risk of being thrust into combat with a full bladder. This situation, at the end of the night, is merely a bonus.

She can almost see the wheels turning in Lavellan’s head. When they arrive at their guest room, the Inquisitor bars the door behind them and - _yes_ \- nudges Josephine down into the armchair to kiss her, not bothering to search for a chamber pot first. Josephine sighs into her mouth, running her fingers down to the thick piece of rope holding her lover’s trousers in place. Lavellan hisses through her teeth before she seems to realize Josephine is untying it, doing away with the knot that’s no doubt putting pressure in the last place she needs it right now.

“Better?” Josephine teases, nosing at her cheek as the rope falls away.

“A little.” Reluctantly, the Inquisitor gets to her feet. “Where are our nightclothes? I can’t stand this uniform a second longer."

Locating their luggage is mercifully quick, and Lavellan takes advantage of the time to replace the lantern light with her own conjured flames before they change. The wave of need that goes through Josephine when she stands and removes her pants is easily covered, in contrast to Lavellan, who has to stop to press her thighs together and fidget midway through swapping her uniform for a loose shirt and leggings. When she’s finished, she crawls over on top of where Josephine lies on the bed, offering a deep kiss. 

Too soon, a yawn forces them to part, and the Inquisitor shuts her eyes with a light groan. “Creators. I’m so tired, but I don’t want to _stop.”_

Josephine can’t help a little giggle. “Then stay with me a little longer,” she encourages, nudging a thigh between Lavellan’s legs. It’s ostensibly to help her hold on, though she’s certainly not objecting to the breathy sound that escapes.

The situation isn’t entirely new - in the early days of their experimentation, Lavellan admitted she often put off trips to the privy in favor of making out, the aching fullness serving to heighten the whole experience. Still, it always ended with the Inquisitor getting up to relieve herself before the situation approached critical, and neither of them is the least bit interested in moving right now. They remain wrapped up in each other comfortably, Lavellan’s breathing starting to deepen.

It takes Josephine a moment to realize when her lover dozes off. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised - it’s been, after all, an incredibly long night. With a smile, Josephine runs her fingers through cropped hair. Now that they’re lying on the bed, her own need for relief doesn’t feel as urgent…and though she enjoys watching the Inquisitor squirm, she can’t say she minds the fullness herself. She can wait a while longer.

Only when Lavellan has fallen more deeply asleep, and the lights go out with her, does Josephine see her own mistake. Mages can’t keep the effects of their powers going while unconscious, and with the way Josephine is trapped under her, she doubts she’ll be able to get up to light a lantern without waking her girlfriend. 

The warmth at the juncture of her legs turns to a throb. Neither of them will possibly be able to hold out until morning - even in her sleep, Lavellan can’t stay still. Josephine blushes at the myriad of impure thoughts that run through her mind at the realization.

She should shake her, just a little, so they can satisfy their own needs. Without adequate sleep, tomorrow won’t run smoothly. All things she knows, and yet she finds her mind wandering through fantasies as the minutes crawl by, her body trying to remain utterly still.

It’s not entirely possible. Lavellan turns over, marked arm coming down heavily across Josephine’s stomach, and the ambassador has to shift away and close her eyes when it turns nagging reminders into pain. She had - if she’s honest - more liquid than was wise, and her bladder has rapidly become an uncomfortable heaviness inside her. No matter how she adjusts herself (a task she’s having to reapply herself to every few minutes now), her need for relief is becoming impossible to forget about.

When warmth spills over her thigh, she thinks for a moment it’s only Lavellan squirming again. But then the Inquisitor comes awake with a jolt, swearing in her mother tongue as she strangles off the flow of urine. “I - Josie, where’s the - ?”

Once more, flames illuminate the room, Lavellan conjuring them with one hand as she buries the other between her thighs. The mattress shifts as she sits up, glancing around frantically, and Josephine’s eyes are drawn to the sizable wet patch at her girlfriend’s crotch.

She doesn’t know what comes over her. Wrapping one arm around Lavellan’s waist to hold her lightly in place, she whispers, “Don’t worry about that.”

The Inquisitor’s breath hitches, her eyes going wide. “You can’t be serious. Where will we sleep?”

Josephine hesitates. “Can’t you take away the mess?” She’s seen Lavellan magically dry her robes after coming in from the rain; surely one liquid can’t be that different from another.

Apparently her guess is correct. Lavellan’s cheeks color, but there are no further protests. “All right,” she murmurs, granting her lover a brief kiss. Her body trembles with the effort of staving off the inevitable, then slumps forward with a low sound as she gives in to her bladder’s demands. Josephine can hear it hissing as it darkens her leggings, rushing through the fabric and soaking the bedsheets tangled around their thighs.

Hurriedly, Lavellan waves a hand to nudge some of the flames away, obscuring her face the tiniest bit, though Josephine is utterly enraptured. She shifts to her knees - wincing when it provokes a sharp ache in her own abdomen - and reaches out, needing to feel where the stream flows hot through saturated material. Josephine moans, half in arousal and half from how much more difficult the visual makes it to control her own need.

The Inquisitor’s eyes are closed in blissful relief, endearingly similar to the way she looks in orgasm, and her breathing goes unsteady as the stream tapers off into spurts. With a deep pull of air, she opens her eyes once more, brow quickly knitting in concern. Josephine _knows_ there is discomfort etched into her face, as much as she enjoyed the show, and now it’s too late to hide.

“Everything all - oh.” Halfway through asking the question, the answer clicks in Lavellan’s expression. “You didn’t go while I was asleep, did you?”

Josephine shakes her head, face burning. “I was rather caught up in…thoughts.”

The Inquisitor grins, clearly not fooled as to what those thoughts involved. “I mean, we’re already wet. So if you want to just…”

It’s hard to deny a certain curiosity, and Lavellan  _did_ just offer. Returning the smile self-consciously, Josephine drops her gaze, needing the modicum of privacy. A moment ago she was desperate nearly to the point of pain, but now she finds herself having to concentrate on letting go, forcing her thoughts in the direction of waterfalls and fountains and heavy rain before a spurt escapes. She inhales sharply, reflexively clenching her muscles shut.

“It’s okay.” Lavellan’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “Just relax and let go.”

It comes more easily this time, a steady trickle that turns soaked fabric dark and shiny again with fresh wetness, and pools on the bed beneath them where the sheets can’t absorb it quickly enough. Josephine sighs as the built-up pressure of the evening finally begins to dissipate. Her face is on fire, her heart racing so quickly she’s almost lightheaded.

Though she can’t bring herself to meet Lavellan’s eyes, the squeeze to her shoulder is encouragement enough. Josephine forces herself to keep breathing, amazed at how incredibly warm she feels. It seems like _so much_ coming out of her, the puddle creeping down towards her calves, and she swears she can hear it dripping into the sheets.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Lavellan murmurs, her voice impossibly throaty. Her hand has wandered to her own thigh, creeping towards her waistband.

Josephine licks her lips and is on her in a second. Capturing Lavellan’s mouth in a kiss, she slips one hand into her girlfriend’s leggings and works her clit in tight circles - exactly the way she knows will make the Inquisitor fall to pieces. Lavellan shudders and reaches down to return the favor, falling into a merciful rhythm.

The noises in the room are slick, obscene and smacking, punctuated with gasps that escape between sucking kisses. It doesn’t take long for Josephine to come, with as pent-up as she’s been all night, a soft moan escaping as her climax rolls over her. Barely a minute later, Lavellan follows with a shudder and an open-mouthed smile.

For a moment they lie there in silence, catching their breath, before Lavellan meets her lover’s eyes and they both collapse into helpless laughter. Josephine rolls off of her, discreetly trying to find a position where she can sit down without her nightgown or the sheets - both uncomfortably cold and wet - sticking to her.

“Here, let me - ” With a flick of the Inquisitor’s hand, the sheets are dry again; a second movement, and their nightclothes follow suit. Josephine smiles, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s lips.

They spoon together, and Josephine speaks almost regretfully. “I prefer watching you do it. Which is not to say I didn’t enjoy myself.”

Lavellan grins again. “It’s not for everyone.” She pauses, blowing out a long breath. “Do you think we could talk about this in the morning, when I’m not so fuzzy in the head?”

“Oh, I’m sure we will.”

Josephine kisses her again. She tosses the blanket over them both, snuggling in, and is asleep before Lavellan’s conjured flames go out once more.


End file.
